Her face was clearly visible beneath her glass helmet. Her hair was pulled back and she wore more makeup than I had ever seen on her. She looked more grown-up as a result, beautiful yet severe. Daiyu nodded and graced the cameras with a small smile that barely showed her teeth—a shadow of what I had seen when she had gotten off the rock wall after her first climb.
“She felt it was unfair that so many Taiwanese are left to the harsh elements of our country, especially here in Taipei. Why couldn’t we make a suit that would be more affordable—one that more people could buy? she asked me.” Jin wrapped an arm around his daughter, but Daiyu stood stiff as ever, her face an impassive mask for the cameras. “It was due to her conviction that I began working on a patent for a less expensive and customized version of our suits. And I’m happy to say that we have partnered with Prosperity Bank of Taipei to finance these suits, so they can be made affordable for everyone.”
Again, everyone cheered around me. “The suits will be available in early spring, but you can place your order now online or at any Jin Corp boutique,” Jin said. “Jin Corp will also be giving away suits in promotion of our newest product. Raffles can be purchased for just one yuan at all 7-Elevens. One hundred suits will be given away to our lucky winners!”
I snorted. Jin’s every generous gesture was a calculated move to increase business and profits.
More wild applause. But selling raffles was hardly giving anything away. I could see how Jin spun everything, from dressing in his patriotic suit to his carefully chosen wording. And Daiyu was a part of this? The cambots had already panned away from her, but I zoomed my view onto her face—her gaze was downcast as the crowd’s excitement thundered around me. Then she raised her eyes, and it seemed as if she were looking directly at me. An impossibility if we weren’t both in helmet. Her lips parted and she drew a breath—I could see it in the rise and fall of her chest—before she turned her face back toward her father.
Jin had both hands raised, triumphant, as he thanked everyone for coming. The park would be open to the public for the entire day to celebrate Jin Corp’s announcement. Food and drink carts were set up around the park, and all items were discounted to one yuan, subsidized by Jin Corp. The four suited figures then disappeared back into the memorial hall amid fervent applause and shouting. People began to disperse after that. The yous climbed into aircars and some zipped off on their airpeds, while the meis headed eagerly to the food and drink carts stationed around the memorial park, excited to spend a nice and rare day there.
Suddenly, a shrill scream near me pierced the air, followed by shouts.
“He just collapsed!”
“He’s dead!”
“It’s contagious. Run!”
Two men thumped against my shoulder as they fled, panicked, and everyone else surged away in similar fashion. The air thundered with their cries and footsteps, and I tried to hold my ground until a man with wild eyes above his green face mask slammed into me, and someone slammed into him. I was on my hands and knees in an instant, as multiple feet kicked my legs and arms and strangers’ knees bruised my ribs. Someone stomped hard on my left hand, and I shouted in pain, unable to pull it to my chest for fear I’d lose my balance and topple over entirely within the sea of people. Two meis knocked into my helmet as they ran, and my head snapped back both times, ears ringing with the noise. I tried to push upward, but the press of people made it impossible. Then, as suddenly as it started, I seemed alone in the massive square. I rose unsteadily, tucking my bruised hand close, heartbeat thundering in my head.
Only two meis remained with me and the sick man on the ground. I recognized him as the guy in his twenties with the hacking cough who I had seen earlier. He was lying on the cobblestone in fetal position, arms flung out in front of himself, his face deathly pale, except for two bright spots on his cheeks. He hadn’t been trampled to death because everyone had steered a wide circle around him as they ran.
Shit.
I stooped down and touched the man’s shoulder. His breathing was shallow, strained. Dark brown blood was crusted on his mouth, and I saw it on the cobblestone where he had stood and spat bloody sputum. I reached over to feel his forehead.
“I wouldn’t touch him,” said one of the meis, a man in his twenties. He pressed a dirty handkerchief over his nose and mouth, and I saw that his fingernails were caked with grime. “You’re in your fancy you suit, but your hands are bare. Don’t want whatever he’s got.”
The sick man was burning up. Command: what’s his temperature? I queried in my mind.
103.2°F flashed across my helmet.
Gods.
“We need an ambulance!” I shouted, raising my head to look around me. Jin’s guards had retreated after the yous left—their only concern. A few mei gawkers remained near the edges of the square. All of them wore face masks. Their black eyes studied me: curious, desperate, frightened. Seeing the dark specks of blood reminded me of Yu Hua’s novel: a hero struggling to support his own family by selling more and more of his own blood. Now, that wasn’t even a possibility for most meis—especially the poorest among us. Their blood was considered too dirty. Tainted.
The other mei who remained near, a girl wearing a mask covered with fluffy white cats and purple stars, snorted. “An ambulance? Let him die in peace. They’ll bag him later and cremate him.”
I stared at the mei girl. She didn’t look more than fifteen years. Rolling her eyes at me, she said, “Rich, stupid you boy. Who’s going to pay for an ambulance? And his medical costs? Stop making a big show of it.”
I glanced down at the man and saw the sheen of sweat collecting at his hairline and above his upper lip. He was burning up. Just like my mom had.
“I’ll pay for all of it. We can’t just leave him here. He’s still alive.”
The girl shrugged. “Probably not for much longer. We die on the streets all the time. You just don’t know.”
But I did know. Yet I had always turned my back, as most meis did. What could we do? This was life. The truly poor and sick died in their hovels or in dark alleys. If they were lucky, a family member or friend reported their demise immediately. The unfortunate rotted until their rancid stench gave them away. Just one month in my $75 million apartment and I had already grown comfortable, removed from the grittiness of the streets. The hunger, illness, and deaths. I had grown soft. But here, now, there was something I could do. “Command,” I said. “Get an ambulance to Liberty Square now.”
CONTACTED. AMBULANCE IS ON WAY, flashed across my helmet.
The mei girl wandered off with the older man, neither glancing back even once.
I took long breaths to calm myself, wishing I could rub my temples. A pounding headache had emerged from nowhere right behind my eyes. Daiyu’s icon suddenly flashed on the lower corner of my helmet. ACCEPT CALL?
I blinked and cleared my throat, before replying, Yes.